


Ad Astra Per Tentaculum

by morganoconner



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, M/M, Romance, Telepathy, Tentacles, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Space contains a multitude of different species, and Derek has seen and helped a lot of them in his time taking down branches of the slave-trade organization. But this is the first time he's seen an Aloshrivnik. It’s not the tentacles that draw him in; it’s the goddamn eyes that stare at him without backing down.</p><p>"Stiles," it says to him. "My name is Stiles."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ad Astra Per Tentaculum

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 Tentacle Big Bang, a truly _delightful_ challenge I am very glad I got to participate in! :D Many, many thanks to my utterly brilliant artist Nan, who made the most perfect artwork for this story, which you'll see embedded directly into the scene. (But you should also visit [her post](http://nan.dreamwidth.org/264905.html) after and leave her SO MUCH LOVE!) Also thank you to my two betas, maybemalapert and puchuupoet, who really helped wrangle this into something readable. And finally, my soul to zubeneschamali for giving me a perfect title when I was tearing my hair out trying to think of something the day this was due. ♥
> 
> Warnings for mentions of slavery (though no actual slavery is shown in this story), and, obviously, for tentacles.

Derek stared around in disgust. Cages lined the walls, ceiling-high, each one too small for whatever species it was holding. Cramped and cold, beaten and half-starved, the creatures inside those cages stared back at him without any hope in their gazes.

There were a lot of backwater planets like these, worlds without a lot of traffic, where thugs could hide as they engaged in the profitable slave trade of intelligent species who, for one reason or another, couldn't fight them off. It made Derek sick to his stomach to see, and not jut because his sister had once been in a cage just like the ones he was looking at now.

Sick feeling or not though, taking down enterprises like this was what Derek did, and he was damn good at it.

"I found the holding level," he said into his radio. He tried to keep his voice calm, but there was no way Isaac missed the growl he couldn't mask. "I'd say about a hundred-fifty birds down here. Quiet bunch…they've been here a while."

"Copy that," Isaac said. "You think the bastards have been looking for a buyer for the lot?"

"That'd be my guess." Usually, dealers got new birds in just as fast as they sold them off, greedy fuckers. But these ones had been broken for some time. It was possible their new birds were kept somewhere else, but from what Derek had seen of the rest of the complex, it didn't seem likely. Which meant the dealers who ran this place had probably gotten spooked when they realized they were being monitored, and were trying to find another dealer to sell to at a discount. Derek had seen this particular pattern before.

"I got your position," Isaac said. "Sending in the wranglers now."

Derek nodded, even though Isaac couldn't see. He looked around at the dull faces surrounding him, dozens of species, all of them pale and blank-eyed. "Copy that," he said gruffly. "They're all air-breathers, but no guarantees they'll be capable of moving on their own. I see at least one Kra'Shekna, so hopefully you'll be able to communicate with the rest of them through her, if you can get the poor girl responding. I'm doing one last sweep, but keep me posted if Erica and Boyd run into problems. Any sign of the dealers' ship returning?"

"Not so far, but Allison's on watch just in case."

"Good," Derek said. "I want to get this place cleared out before we take the bastards down, if we can. No need to traumatize the birds more than we have to." Derek had never met a dealer willing to come peacefully. Probably because there wasn't a dealer alive who didn't know what was waiting for them if they got brought in.

It wasn't a pleasant fate.

He left the main holding area and made his way through dim, damp corridors, stunner in hand, ready for trouble. There was an unpleasant odor hanging in their air that made his hackles rise, his sharper senses intensifying it so that it stung in his nose, hit the back of his throat like a taste he couldn't spit out.

This level should have been the lowest level of the complex – that's what all of the intelligence they'd gathered suggested – but there was something pushing Derek onward, some instinct he wouldn't question that told him there was more to be discovered.

He found it at the end of a side corridor, butted up against a wall that appeared to be a dead end. If his senses had been human, he'd have missed it entirely, the way part of the wall was slightly off color, just the smallest bit lighter – cleaner – than the rest. In the dim, flickering light, even he had trouble making it out, but it was just enough.

He pressed a hand to the wall. It was cold and grimy beneath his fingers, but that didn't stop him from searching for a hidden crevice, anything that didn't fit…

_There._

He was squatting down now, his index finger caressing the little nub toward the lower part of the wall. His small victorious smile was all teeth when he pushed down on it and heard something come loose with a decisive clicking sound.

The wall swung open, revealing a staircase. The moment he stepped onto it, lights flickered to life above and around him. He tightened his grip on his weapon and made his way down.

It was brighter down here than in any of the rest of the complex. Also cleaner, which meant whatever was down here was a lot more important to the dealers running the place. Probably more valuable, Derek thought, anger a steady burn in his belly.

At first glance, it didn't look like there was anything special to be found, plain walls and a computer console much like the one they'd found on the main level and nothing else.

But the sound of water was in Derek's ears and the smell was in his nose, cleaner and sweeter than the other odors that had been assaulting him since he'd first stepped foot in this place. It lapped against his senses, leading him to the far wall with swift, sure steps. And as he approached, it opened. Two panels slid apart, revealing the wall to actually be a…

A _tank_.

"Fuck," Derek whispered, because there was a form moving through that dark water, lithe and graceful and coming toward him and all he could think was, _We don't have the equipment to free an aquatic bird_. Regret was already settling like a stone inside him when the bird reached the side of the tank where Derek was standing, and then he met those eyes and his only thought became, _We'll find the damn equipment_.

Because there was still _life_ in those eyes, life and spirit and fire, flashing golden even through the water and glass separating them, and for a long time, Derek was so taken in by the eyes that he didn't even notice the rest of the form. Until the being in front of him suddenly swam right up close to the glass, peering at him with what was undoubtedly deep suspicion, and he was finally able to pull his gaze away.

The top part of the creature was humanoid – a torso, two arms, neck, face, even hair – buzzed almost to the scalp, true, but Derek imagined that must have been done by the dealers. Two pointed ears, a nose, a mouth that was currently twisted into a frown. The skin was pearlescent, and so pale it almost seemed to glow in the dark water.

The lower half was decidedly not human. Instead, there was a twisting, writhing mass of greenish-silver… _tentacles_ was the only word that came to mind. They squirmed and wriggled and spun around him like they had a life of their own, and even despite all of the sorts of beings Derek had seen and helped in his line of work, there was a distant part of him that wondered if he shouldn't be horrified at the sight, because he'd never seen anything like _this_.

But he couldn't. He couldn't be horrified or revolted or disturbed because the damn things were _beautiful_. If anything, Derek was awestruck.

And Derek Hale didn't _do_ awestruck. He wasn't some fucking teenage girl with a love-at-first-sight celebrity crush, for fuck's sake.

But…

Before he was even aware of a conscious decision to step forward, he was raising a hand and pressing it to the cool glass of the tank, eyes once again locked with the being inside. It – _he_ , Derek couldn't help but think, because it looked male to him – raised his own hand, slightly webbed but with five long fingers just like his, and matched it to Derek's. Now only the glass – which suddenly seemed very, very thin – separated them.

Derek imagined he could feel the heat of that pale skin against his own.

"Isaac," he said, trying not to hear how gravelly his voice sounded. "We've got another one."

"Sure, boss," Isaac responded, sounding upbeat. Derek hoped that meant the extraction of the other birds was going smoothly. "What do you need?"

Derek didn't have the first clue.

 _We're going to help you,_ he thought as hard as he could.

 _I know,_ the being thought back, and grinned at him.

  
*  


It was his second-in-command who came running into the room first, skidding to a halt just inside and staring wide-eyed at the tank.

"This is Stiles," Derek said, indicating the bird still floating close to the glass. Now that his own shock had passed (the double-whammy of finding Stiles and then of actually _communicating_ with him), he took a mean sort of pleasure in watching that same stunned astonishment pass over Scott's face.

"Holy shit," Scott whispered.

"Yeah," Derek agreed.

"Holy _shit_ , Derek!" Scott spun to face him, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. "That's…that…what is that?"

"He tells me he's an Aloshrivnik," Derek said coolly, like he hadn't had to practice the word several times to get it right. He could _feel_ Stiles smirking at him, and he pretended it didn't make his ears burn.

"He can talk to you?" Scott demanded, turning again to stare speculatively at the bird.

"His species is telepathic." Derek's eyes hardened, and he knew they were glowing red as he let some of his rage cut through his mental walls. "If the dealers weren't already going down hard for this operation, they would be now for sure. You don't kidnap a telepath from a protected world no matter what kind of low-life bastard you are."

Scott nodded absently, still focused on Stiles. "Do you think he'd talk to me?" he asked, all but vibrating with excitement.

Derek rolled his eyes. "First, how about we figure out how to get him safely onto the ship?"

"Oh yeah, that makes sense," Scott replied sheepishly. His hand went to his radio. "Isaac, any word yet?"

There was a long pause, and then Isaac came back with, "We got a small transport tank jury-rigged and ready to go. It's not pretty to look at, but we're pretty sure it'll get the job done."

" _Pretty_ sure?" Derek growled.

"Best we're gonna get, boss," Erica's voice cut in. "We've still got a lot of birds to get on board, and Allison thinks we may have company incoming pretty soon. We don't have time to be more than _pretty sure_."

"Fine." Derek spun on his heel, facing Stiles again. Stiles' hand was already resting against the glass, waiting for Derek's. _Tell me how to get you out of here._

Stiles did better than that. Stiles showed him.

  
*  


It could have been a disaster, but somehow they made it work.

Erica delivered the large aquatic transport, and Derek punched in the computer code Stiles had shown him from his memories. A large gap opened in the glass, right in the middle of the tank, the water held back by a force field controlled by the computer.

"This is the largest we could make with the supplies we had on hand," Erica said, her gaze sliding back and forth between the transport and Stiles' tentacles. "Hope it's enough."

"It'll be fine," Derek said, like he could make it work by sheer force of will. The transport was almost taller than he was, and fairly wide, but yeah, it looked like it might still be a tight fit for Stiles and all of his appendages. _Worry about that later_ , he told himself firmly

"Okay then." She shrugged, her long blond curls falling over her shoulder as she slapped the controller for the transport into his palm. "Gotta go help Boyd with the rest of the birds upstairs, but _hurry up_ , boss."

"You're not the one who gives the orders," he muttered, but she was already jogging back the way she'd come. Huffing out a breath, he glanced back at Stiles, who was watching with a grin in place. "Ready?" he asked.

Stiles nodded. Derek looked at Scott, who was already steering the transport to the gap in the glass. He pushed a button, and water started gushing out, filling the transport but also soaking Scott to the skin and going all over the floor as well. Another button slowed the flow, and Derek glared at Stiles, who had a hand pressed to his mouth and was obviously laughing at him.

When the transport was mostly full, Derek took a breath. "Okay, let's do this," he said. He nodded to Stiles.

His tentacles began snaking out first, four of them sliding carefully over the glass and curling around the top of the transport, exploring its edges and mechanisms. Stiles himself hung back, looking nervous now that the moment was upon him to switch locales, but eventually he crept forward as well, looking out of one tank and into another as the rest of his tentacles propelled him closer to the widened gap.

Derek wasn't going to rush him, but he had to keep the force field down while Stiles took his sweet time, and the water was covering the floor now, already covering the soles of his boots, and they didn't have forever here. He eyed Stiles impatiently.

Stiles, catching his look, gave a determined nod, and leapt into the transport.

Scott whooped, and even Derek exhaled a relieved breath. "Let's get the fuck out of here," he said, trying not to wonder if Stiles would be okay. The sides of the transport were metal, not glass, and he didn't like not being able to see Stiles' expression, but he also didn't have time to worry about it right now.

The dealers were returning, and Derek planned to be ready for them.

  
*  


_Why do you call them birds?_ Stiles wondered.

Derek took careful note of the way he used 'them' and not 'us'. He couldn't see into the transport as he secured it against the wall in the cargo bay of his ship, but obviously Stiles could sense it when he lifted his hand to the side, unable to help himself.

 _Because my sister hated when all they could call her was 'victim',_ he replied, and this wasn't something he'd ever told anyone before, not even his pack. _She started calling them birds after a human poem, about caged birds who sang of freedom._

He could feel Stiles' smile. _I like that,_ he said.

 _Are you all right here?_ Derek asked, because it was easier than acknowledging Stiles' words.

 _Fine, Derek. Go get the bad guys._ One long, thick tentacle slithered out from the top of the transport, curling down and against the side of Derek's cheek in a slippery caress.

He swallowed hard and took a step back. Just before his hand left the side of the transport, he felt Stiles' amusement, a burst of warmth in his chest that he didn't know what to do with.

"Scott," he barked into the radio, masking his discomfort the best way he knew how. "What's the ETA on that damn ship?"

A good fight would go a long way right now.

  
*  


The 'flector shields on his own ship meant the bastards didn't get a chance to run. By the time they realized they weren't alone on their base, Derek and the pack were on them.

They came out of their beat up ship with guns blazing, energy beams set to do a lot more than stun. Twelve of them, all big male Volkashans with more muscles than smarts, nothing close to a match for five werewolves, even with their iron-hard fists and spiked tails. And if Derek really did need the backup, he still had the human members of his pack on board watching over the birds.

The leader of the group targeted Derek immediately, snarling as he ducked and dodged around wolf and human alike to get to him, already swinging a beefy fist as Derek was crouching into a defensive position to meet him. This guy wasn't worth an energy blast, and Derek had to face facts, he'd been all but praying for an excuse to use his claws. "I take it this means you won't come peaceably?" he shouted.

" _Ignash vokushma!_ " the dealer roared in his own guttural tongue. It reverberated up Derek's spine, and while he didn't understand the language, he got the basic gist. Fighting it was.

He smiled, flashing his fangs, and leapt with his claws outstretched.

  
*  


Some of his pack suffered from post-battle stress, but Derek had never had that problem. Maybe it was just because of his past, but when he fought dealers, he tended to find himself relaxed enough to sleep like a baby, which was why when he got up the next morning, he was able to join the others at the breakfast table well-rested and in a relatively good mood. He scooped eggs onto his plate and into his mouth as he listened with half an ear to the crew's updates.

He tuned in fully only when it was Lydia's turn, and only because she kicked him under the table and then gave him a sweet (and evil) smile.

"It's going to take us a few days to establish contact with base," she said, flipping long strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulder. "We should be in range sometime late Sunday, which works out since that will be Melissa's shift." She went back to inspecting her fingernails. "In the meantime, we might as well get comfortable and make nice with the guests. Or, you know, _guest_ , in your case, Derek."

Good to know his crew hadn't missed his fascination with Stiles, Derek thought with a glare in her direction. "You really want me trying to deal with traumatized birds?" he asked darkly.

Across the table, Boyd snorted into his breakfast. , and even Scott looked a little horrified by the suggestion.

Derek was not exactly a people person. He got on well with his pack, of course, and they seemed to think he was a good Alpha. But being a leader and being a caretaker were two very different things, and he just didn't do sharing and caring. He didn't have it in him to be soft-spoken and warm like Allison and Scott and Isaac. Even Erica and Boyd, who were harder than them, usually had some kind of rapport with the birds after they'd wrangled them to safety. But Derek was made up of too many sharp edges and high walls for that.

For some reason though, he seemed to forget that around Stiles. Granted, Stiles was an easy being to talk with, and the rest of the crew liked him as well, or they seemed to in the very short time they'd had to meet him between saving his ass and slaughtering the dealers and getting the hell off that planet. But Stiles was different, when he spoke with Derek. Something in his voice, or the way his tentacles seemed to move easier in his presence, or…

"I'll be in the cargo bay," Derek grunted, shoving away from the table. He ignored the knowing glances between the rest of the pack, and especially ignored Lydia's smirk.

Stiles was quiet when he reached the aquatic transport, and even when Derek pressed a hand to the side, there was no answering warmth against his palm. Despite knowing he must have only been sleeping, Derek couldn't help the concern that shivered down his spine.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled himself as quietly as he could up the side of the transport, balancing himself on the edges so he could peer down into the water.

As he'd expected, Stiles was curled up at the bottom of the tank, his head pillowed on his arm, tentacles coiled loosely around his body like a living blanket. A slight, rare smile tugged at the corners of Derek's mouth, and of course that was when Stiles chose to open his eyes.

He blinked groggily for a moment, tentacles uncoiling into a long, sinuous stretch, and then he looked up and saw Derek. A grin broke out across his face, and he waved.

Derek, settling more comfortably onto his perch, waved back, tried not to feel stupid as he did so.

One long tentacle slithered up the wall, curling around Derek's wrist. _You're a great big creeperwolf,_ Stiles told him, sounding unbearably fond. _But I guess I don't mind so much._

They spent the rest of the morning together in silence, just enjoying the strange pleasure of one another's company.

Derek didn't allow himself to think too hard about uncomfortable questions like _why_ or _how_ or, worst of all, _for how long_.

  
*  


"Why does everything with your crew always turn into a clusterfuck?" Melissa McCall sounded more resigned than upset over the transmission, which Derek figured was a good thing. Resigned meant she'd be ready to help them get the mess cleaned up faster and get the birds back wherever they belonged as quickly as possible.

"I know, Mom," Scott replied sheepishly. "I'm sorry." He always was, Derek thought, smirking. "Will the treatment center be ready? It's a pretty big bunch."

She sighed. "Of course it will. What's the count, so I know how many people I need to drag in here to help?"

"One-si– uh, hang on a sec." Scott glanced over his shoulder at Derek.

Derek didn't pretend not to know what he was asking about. He nodded once, then spun on his heel and headed toward the cargo bay. As he walked, he heard Scott detailing what his mom should expect, and why she'd need an aquatic treatment area ready as well.

Derek had toyed with the idea of swinging by Stiles' homeworld before worrying about the rest of the birds, but the fact was, Stiles' planet was farther than anywhere else they'd have to go, and Derek couldn't play favorites no matter how much he hated the idea of Stiles being stuck in that too-small transport with no room to move around freely.

He had no idea why he felt so protective of the damn guy. It was driving him crazy, and it was no surprise that Scott had picked up on it. He wasn't an idiot, no matter how often Derek liked to tell him he was.

The cargo bay was dark when he got there, but he didn't need a lot of light to see anyway. He made his way to the transport holding his unlikely new…friend (the word stuck in his throat even spoken only in the privacy of his own head) and sat down on the floor, leaning against it with a sigh.

Stiles' presence on the other side was a tangible thing, a line of warmth at Derek's back, a steady thrum of nervous energy and easy camaraderie.

"We're finally in range of our base," Derek said, knowing now that Stiles could hear him no matter how he chose to communicate. Still, he pressed a hand back against the metal out of habit, and felt it when Stiles' hand came to rest against the other side.

 _That's good, isn't it?_ Stiles asked.

"I wanted to take you home first," Derek admitted.

Stiles' gratitude filled him. _I appreciate the thought,_ he said, _but I don't mind staying with you and your pack. I'm just glad to be away from those dealers. They were…cruel._

"At least you had space to move around there." Derek glanced over his shoulder at the span of metal boxing Stiles into such a small area.

 _This is fine for now,_ Stiles assured him. _Just…_ He stopped.

"Just what?" Derek demanded.

 _I wish it wasn't so cold._ Stiles sounded like the words were being dragged out of him, loathe as he was to admit to any discomfort. _It's fine, really,_ he hastened to add. _Just at home, the waters are really warm, and they tried to keep it close to that at the facility, I guess trying to keep me in top condition._ He gave what Derek could only describe as a snort of derision. _Although the last few days there seemed cooler, too. But I mean, I'm pretty adaptable, so the cold is okay, it won't hurt me, I jut need to get used to it._

If he hadn't gotten used to it in the three days they'd already been on the ship, he probably would never like it, Derek thought, guilt washing over him. He hadn't even thought to ask about temperature, and of course there was nothing they could do about it here and now. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked, not feeling too hopeful. But at Stiles' hesitation, he suddenly pressed. " _Stiles?_ "

 _Werewolves run pretty hot, it seems like,_ he finally murmured. Derek could tell he was pressed up close to the side of the transport.

He swallowed. _You think my body heat will help?_ he asked, switching to thoughts because you never knew when another wolf was listening, and there were some things his pack just didn't need to hear.

 _It can't hurt?_ Stiles replied, sounding all kinds of hopeful all of a sudden. _And it could at least be a distraction._

Derek wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. Or, he maybe liked the sound of that too much. It was hard to tell, really. In the days since he'd found Stiles in that place, Stiles had made him feel all kinds of things he didn’t understand and didn't entirely want to. For someone who kept such a tight reign on his emotions as Derek did – and with good reason – it was terrifying.

Just…not quite terrifying enough to make him want to stop it.

He stood slowly, keeping his hand pressed to cool metal, both out of habit and as a grounding mechanism as he ordered the ship to seal the cargo bay doors and only unlock them for Scott or Lydia in the case of an emergency. If any of the pack came down here, they'd make their own assumptions, but hell, Derek was the Alpha. He could do what he wanted.

He felt Stiles' shiver of excitement almost like it was his own.

The uniform Derek wore came off easily. Boots and socks and pants and shirt and if _he_ was the one to shiver now, he told himself it was because of the cold, even if temperature rarely effected him. He left his black boxer briefs on and leaped onto the corner edge of the transport. Crouched in that precarious spot, eyes glowing from emotions he couldn't or wouldn't name, he stared down into clear water and Stiles' smiling eyes.

Stiles reached up, grasping his hand. _Come on,_ he said impatiently, with a gentle tug. _What are you waiting for?_

All of a sudden, it occurred to Derek to wonder how he planned to breathe underwater.

 _Trust me,_ Stiles said, and tugged on Derek's hand again.

Since Derek did, for reasons even he didn't understand, he lowered himself into the cool water. It closed around him like an embrace.

So close, with nothing but a few inches of clear water separating them, Stiles looked different somehow. More alive, or just more… _there_.

Touchable.

And Stiles did touch. Derek didn't even notice at first, the tentacles that slid over his skin, curling around his arms and legs and tugging him closer, close enough for Stiles to wrap his arms around him, nuzzling into Derek's chest like he'd always belonged right there. One tentacle crept up Derek's spine and settled there against his back, holding him in place, and another found its way over his shoulder and around his neck, twisting there like a slippery sort of scarf.

 _So warm,_ Stiles sighed happily in his mind. _Knew you would be._

  


Derek had been holding his breath for several long moments now, but it was hard to care, so wrapped up (literally) in Stiles. His own arms had found their way around Stiles' torso, and he found himself clinging to Stiles almost as much as Stiles was clinging to him.

And then, when the need for air finally got to be too much, Stiles tilted his face up, gave Derek a big beaming smile, and kissed him.

Derek opened his mouth, some instinct taking over, and sweet air filled his lungs. He moaned, some of that precious oxygen floating away in bubbles, and Stiles gave him another breath.

 _Stiles,_ Derek thought desperately.

Stiles lingered for another moment, and then pulled back with a grin. _You don't mind, do you?_ he asked.

Wordlessly, Derek shook his head, wishing he could adequately convey how much he _didn't_ mind, and exactly how strange that was for him.

 _I haven't been this close to anyone before,_ Stiles told him. _I want…I don't know how to…you can't…_ He grew frustrated, a few tentacles thrashing around him, and god help Derek but he found himself captivated. And charmed.

 _Breathe, Stiles,_ he said, running a hand down Stiles' spine, soothing him. _Calm down. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere._ He didn't think the entirety of his pack could pull him away now, short of blaring the emergency klaxons. God, but Stiles had gotten under his skin fast. He barely noticed the tentacles tightening their hold on him as he moved in close, ducking his head and easing Stiles' mouth open with his own again. Another breath filled his lungs, and then there was nothing but kissing for kissing's sake, the soft slide of Stiles' mouth beneath his own.

 _I like this,_ Stiles sighed happily in his mind.

 _Still cold?_ Derek asked, his hands trailing along Stiles' sides.

_Mmm, only a little._

Two creeping tentacles, which had been mimicking the movements of Derek's hands against his own sides, slid downward, darting underneath the waistband of his boxers. Derek should have been horrified, he should have pushed away and told Stiles that wasn't on the table, wasn't happening, no thank you, but those words all got jammed up before they were even fully articulated in his head. Instead he could only gasp a startled breath from Stiles' mouth and then say, _Yes, do it, please,_ pressing closer, as close as he could to the incredible being in front of him.

Stiles' answer wasn't granted in words but with feelings. A burst of joy and satisfaction and pleasure so pure and _innocent_ , somehow, that it would have knocked the breath from Derek's lungs if he'd had any to spare. His kiss deepened, and his tentacles didn't waste any time in wrapping around the boxer briefs and tugging, caressing Derek's legs as they slid down, and then the larger tentacles holding Derek so close lifted him away from the fabric and Derek was free.

 _There, nothing between us, just like it should be,_ Stiles told him, pulling away with a satisfied grin, running his gaze down the full length of Derek's body.

Derek was caught in the gold that flashed in Stiles' eyes where the dim, watery light outside the transport caught them. He flushed as those eyes took in his face, his body, and then lingered on the hard length of his cock.

 _I think that might be for me,_ Stiles mused, the tremble in his voice belying his nervousness. Still, he didn't give Derek even a moment to even think of a response before a thin tentacle he hadn't noticed darted out from behind Stiles and wrapped itself around Derek's cock with a happy little wriggle.

Derek opened his mouth, the _Oh, God_ trying to escape before he could stop it, before he remembered that he was underwater and couldn't speak.

Stiles twitched with amusement and pulled Derek in again, replacing the lost breath with a long kiss.

The tentacle around his cock twitched and pulsed, and Stiles swallowed the sound Derek would have made as he desperately grasped Stiles' sides, digging into the skin hard enough to bruise, if Stiles could bruise.

 _What can I do for you, I want to do this for you, too,_ Derek begged. _Tell me, Stiles, tell me, please…_

Stiles licked slowly into his mouth and cupped his face with one hand. _Just feel,_ he said. _All you have to do is feel._

Derek could do that. Derek couldn't do anything _but_ that right now, too many sensations battling for dominance, overwhelming his senses and making stars flash behind his eyes. The slippery feel of the tentacles were brushing over every inch of his skin, it felt like, cradling him against Stiles' body, and they didn't feel cold or slimy or uncomfortable, they felt _amazing_. The one around his cock pulsed in time to Stiles' heartbeat, coaxing him harder than he thought he'd ever been before.

 _That's it,_ Stiles said happily, his voice warm in Derek's head. _Let go, let me take care of you, I can do this._ He didn't sound as unsure as he had before, and Derek wondered if this was instinctual, if his body just knew how to make Derek feel this way even though Stiles himself never had before. The thought didn't bother him as much as he thought maybe it should.

And then he stopped thinking altogether, because one of the writhing, supple tentacles that was wrapped around his leg had started inching upward, and now it was right between the V of his legs, pressed up snug against his balls, exploring deeper, prodding tentatively at his entrance, and Derek's entire body went bowstring-taught. _Yes yes yes_ , he thought, didn't know if he was directing the words at Stiles or not and didn't care because Stiles was listening anyway.

 _Derek,_ Stiles sighed, breaking the kiss to mouth along the edge of Derek's jaw, and while Derek was distracted with trying to recapture that warmth, the tentacle pushed in.

He might have tried to escape, the strangeness of it too much for his body to handle when he was running on pure instinct right now, but the rest of the tentacles twisted around him held him fast, so the only thing he could do was feel every inch as he took it.

The tentacle inside him – Jesus God, _inside him_ – thickened as it went, stretching him so easily Derek wondered if it had been built for this exact purpose. Or if he had. His head fell back on a sound he couldn't release, and Stiles' mouth latched onto his neck, leaving nipping little kisses down the side that Derek hoped would leave marks, even if they'd heal too fast.

 _You look so good like this,_ Stiles told him, punctuating the statement with a suckling kiss against his pulse point. _Totally at my mercy._

Derek could hear the grin in his voice, wanted to respond with some kind of clever retort but couldn't make his brain focus for long enough to come up with one.

 _I wonder if I try this…_ Stiles said, and before Derek could worry about what, exactly, he was intending, another tentacle (Christ, it seemed like there were so dam many of them) slid over his jaw and into his open mouth.

Derek's eyes went wide. His lips closed around the slippery appendage, and he tried not to fight the intrusion. The other tentacles, both inside and around him, pulsed with Stiles' pleasure.

 _Breathe, Derek,_ Stiles told him.

Because his entire sense of being was wrapped around Stiles and everything Stiles was, Derek didn't question the order, he simply sucked hard on the tentacle currently stroking his tongue, reveling in the startlingly sweet taste even before he realized that he was actually sucking in oxygen.

There was a humming sound vibrating through the water, and it took Derek a long time to realize that it wasn't just the blood rushing in his ears, but it was actually Stiles making the sound. Stiles, who was staring at him with genuine wonder in his eyes, whose smile lit something inside Derek that had been dark and cold for a long time.

Suddenly, he was ravenous for Stiles, for anything Stiles would give him. _More,_ he begged. _Fuck, Stiles, give me more of you._

His hands, which had been clenched on Stiles' skin like vises, were drawn back, a tentacle wrapped around each wrist until they clamped together behind his back. His legs were spread even further by the tentacles that had been twined around them, and another crept up to join the one that was already spearing him open. There was no warning before it plunged inside, wriggling its way against its partner, both of them thrusting in and out in tandem, doubling his pleasure as they unerringly stroked that place inside him that made him shudder all the way down to his bones. Around his cock, the smaller tentacle tightened, holding off his release.

Derek thought he could die like this and be perfectly content to do so. He was owned as fully as it was possible to be, and he was thrilled by it. He _wanted_ to be owned, he wanted Stiles to take him and use him and do whatever he wanted to him if only Derek could stay like this, just like this…

He didn't even notice the third tentacle pushing in with the first two until it was halfway in, and it should have been too much. Each one was two fingers wide where they met at his entrance, and he'd never been so full before, but the pleasure they evoked drowned out any possibility of pain. He was gasping in hard breaths the tentacle in his mouth provided, and he was drowning in Stiles' knowing gaze, and it was all too much, _too much –_

 _Come on, Derek,_ Stiles said, darting in close again and pressing the full length of his torso against Derek's, nipping at his ear because somehow he'd already discovered what that did to Derek. The tentacle around his cock gave a few more happy pulses and released him, and then he was coming in thick, hard spurts.

 _Stiles. Stiles!_ It was all he could say, all he could think through the high of orgasm.

He panted around the appendage in his mouth for long moments after, thanked all the stars that he was underwater and there would be no proof of the tears he was sobbing right now as he was slowly, gently released, one long tentacle at a time.

When he would have drifted bonelessly to the bottom of the tank, Stiles held him close again with his arms, kissed him once and swam the short distance to the top of the tank.

They surfaced still staring at each other, Derek swallowing hard at the gentleness in Stiles' eyes, and this time, he initiated the kiss, tilting Stiles face toward him and claiming his mouth with a tenderness he hadn't known he still had it in him to feel.

"Are you warm now?" he asked when they finally separated again. His voice was hoarse.

 _Very,_ Stiles said with another bright smile. One of his tentacles came up to brush against Derek's cheek, his arms too busy being clasped around Derek in an embrace it was obvious he didn't want to let go of.

Derek sighed, resting his forehead against Stiles'. "Whatever that was…"

 _It was good,_ Stiles said, very firmly. Then, more tentative, _Wasn't it?_

"Yes," Derek said sharply, a growl in his voice at even the idea that Stiles might be left thinking otherwise. "But are you sure I can't…" he hesitated, not sure how to ask about reciprocation.

The tentacle by his face pulled away to wriggle at him, and Stiles grinned. _You already did,_ he promised. _And it was pretty brilliant._

Derek felt his face flush. He ducked his head to hide the way his lips twitched upwards. "I should…check on the crew," he said, though it was the last thing he wanted to do. But he had to, had to paste on his usual mask, go growl at Scott and threaten Lydia and spar with Erica and Boyd, had to do all the usual things he did with his pack to make sure they were okay, that they could get through the hardships they faced on a semi-regular basis. He had to be their leader, their Alpha.

He had to try not to think about how much it was going to hurt when they docked, and he was that much closer to losing whatever the hell Stiles was becoming to him. Especially given what they'd just done.

Stiles nodded, loosening his grip with clear reluctance. _Will you come back?_ he asked, uncertain in a way Derek never, ever wanted him to be.

"I'll be back," Derek promised gruffly.

Like he'd be able to stay away even if he wanted to.

  
*  


The next few days were filled with sidelong glances and raised eyebrows and a lot more whispering than Derek would usually put up with from anyone in his pack, but he let it slide because he couldn't really fault them in this instance. What he was doing (and that may have been the first time, but it definitely wasn't the last) was so irregular for any of the behavior they'd come to expect from him, they probably would have thought Stiles had possessed him somehow if they didn't like him almost as much as Derek did.

More than once during the flight home, Derek went into the cargo bay with some flimsy excuse ready, only to find Scott already there, hand pressed to the transport, giggling like a child at whatever he and Stiles talked about. They were _friends,_ Derek thought, the realization hitting him slowly. Scott and Stiles joked and laughed the same way Lydia and Allison did, or Isaac and Erica.

And Scott wasn't the only one. Stiles had integrated himself pretty thoroughly into the group, for all that he couldn't leave his tank, and only got to talk with whoever happened to visit him at any given time. But all of them did, was the point.

It wasn't a strange thing for a bird to latch onto one member of the pack or another, and that pack member usually went out of their way to spend extra time with the bird in question when they could. Part of the pre-rehabilitation process, or so Lydia liked to reason.

But Derek had never seen them latch onto one of the birds in their charge like they all did with Stiles. Even Lydia, who usually kept herself as distant and aloof as Derek did, if for different reasons, wasn't immune to his charms.

None of which really told Derek anything, except the sudden certainty he had that he wouldn't be the only one grieving when they finally parted ways.

Luckily, he was getting good at not thinking about things he didn't want to.

  
*  


Melissa greeted them in the docking area with hugs all around, and several nurses and healers ready and waiting with stretchers for any birds too hurt to walk on their own. The crew led them out one at a time, and Derek was ashamed to realize this was the first time he'd bothered to really notice any of their faces.

A lot of them still wouldn't speak a word, hollow-eyed and unwilling to take hold of the hope that was being offered to them, but he was glad to note that several looked better. Some tentatively smiled at or nodded to his crew, and even at him as they passed, and one, a human youth, actually ran over to Scott and hugged him tightly around the legs before she allowed Melissa to lead her inside.

Derek blew out a slow breath as the last of them were taken into the center, and then Melissa was staring at him with her arms crossed and an impatient look on her face. "Well?" she asked. "Are you going to take me to your aquatic friend, or am I going to have to be psychic to figure out if he needs any treatment?"

Derek flushed. "He's…he seems healthy," he mumbled, leading her around to the other side of the ship and then up into the cargo hold. "I don’t think they had him as long. He wasn't as…broken as the others."

"Yeah, well, you'll excuse me if I decide to check him over anyway, since of the two of us, you _aren't_ the medical professional." She eyed him.

"Of course," he told her, ducking his head. Melissa was one of the few people who was allowed to boss him around. She wasn't a member of his pack, not officially, but she was the closest thing to a mom he'd had since his own family's death, and he accorded her the respect she deserved because of it.

They reached the transport tank without further comments, and Derek raised his hand to the metal with the ease born of too-quickly-developed habit. Almost instantly, he felt Stiles' answering warmth. "Stiles, we've landed on Reijan, the planet our base operates from. Melissa, Scott's mom, is with me. She's going to transfer you into a tank inside the treatment facility to check you over. Okay?"

 _I guess if I have to,_ Stiles replied with a long-suffering mental sigh. Then Derek felt his sudden sense of panic. _Wait, you'll still be there, right? This isn't…you're not…_

 _Not going anywhere, Stiles,_ Derek assured him via the privacy of their thoughts. He mentally tacked on the _yet_ , and hoped Stiles didn't catch it.

"Been a long time since we had a telepath here," Melissa said, watching him with eyes that Derek thought saw far too much.

He shrugged, pulling away and shoving his hands in his pockets, hoping to hide his discomfort with her perceptive gaze. "They don't leave their worlds if they can avoid it," he said. "Why would they? They're supposed to be protected."

"Didn't seem to work out so well for your friend." Melissa tilted her head at the tank, clearly wishing she had x-ray vision to see inside.

"His name is Stiles," Derek informed her, his voice harder than he intended. No way she hadn't caught that, but thankfully, she seemed content to ignore it.

"I'll remember," she said instead. "Come on, let's get him inside."

  
*  


In spite of his promise to Stiles that he wasn't going anywhere, Derek forced himself to stay away from the treatment center while the healers ran their tests and jotted their notes and studied his friend to their hearts' content.

It was harder than it should have been, and the whole time he couldn't help feeling guilty, like he was letting Stiles down by not being there, even though soon enough Stiles would be back on his own planet, where he'd forget all about Derek and the crew and they wouldn't see each other again anyway. He felt something dark inside, shadowy and sad, and he imagined it was Stiles' own sense of unhappiness, because he didn't want to admit that it could just as easily have been his own.

It was Scott who finally found him after two days of skulking around his quarters. He stalked into Derek's room with a scowl on his face, and didn't hesitate when he threw the first punch.

Derek was fast, a lot faster than the Beta, but he didn't bother ducking away. Took the hit because he knew he probably deserved it for one reason or another.

"You're an idiot," Scott informed him, not bothering to mince words. "He's hurting because of you, and _you're_ hurting because of you, and you’re a stupid, annoying idiot."

Derek rubbed his jaw and stared Scott down. Scott looked away first, but Derek didn't kid himself that it meant anything right now except that Derek was still his Alpha. It definitely wasn't because Scott was respecting his decision to avoid Stiles. "What do you want me to do, Scott?" he finally asked.

Scott huffed. "You could try _talking_ to him. You did that a lot on the ship, why is it a big problem all of a sudden?"

 _Because it can't last, and I need to get used to being alone in my head again,_ Derek thought, but of course didn't say.

"How are the rest of the birds doing?" he asked instead, hoping Scott would be taken in by the change of subject.

Scott glared. "Come find out for yourself," he snapped, and slammed the door when he stomped out.

  
*  


The tank in the treatment center was large, a lot larger than the thing they'd rigged together practically from spare parts on Derek's ship. It was also glass instead of metal, so Derek saw Stiles the moment he stepped into the room, and Stiles saw him just as clearly. For a single moment, he lit up like a sunrise, and then just as quickly, his face closed off and he folded his arms across his chest in a way that looked like he was protecting himself. He sank to the bottom of the tank and retreated to the far side, his tentacles curling around him like a shroud.

Derek would've felt a lot better if Stiles could just throw a punch at him like Scott had done.

The nice thing about the setup was that Stiles was alone in this treatment room. It had all the more specialized equipment to be able to check and treat an aquatic-based life form, and it wasn't an area of the facility that got a lot of use, so all the rest of the birds were on the main floor, one level down.

It meant that Derek could step up close to the glass and press his hand against it and look at Stiles with the most painfully earnest look he could muster, and he didn't have to do it with an audience.

Stiles eyed him warily for a long moment before he finally uncurled and slunk his way forward, pressing his own palm to the glass with a face that seemed like he expected it to bite him.

 _I broke my promise to you,_ Derek said. _I'm sorry, Stiles._

Stiles looked away for a long moment, his face drawn and sad. _Why?_ he finally asked tightly.

Derek realized the only thing that would suffice here was brutal honestly, and not just because as a telepath, Stiles would be able to sense a lie. He owed Stiles the truth. _Because I thought it would be easier. Because I thought…I thought if I got used to it now, it wouldn't hurt so much when you left._

Stiles blinked, peering over at him with a frown. _You mean you care that much?_

 _I mean I care_ too _much._ Now Derek was the one to look away, so he didn't see the way Stiles' features softened into a smile, but he certainly felt it. It bubbled up under his skin like champagne, the way Stiles brightened almost immediately.

 _You're an idiot,_ Stiles told him fondly. _And you're lucky I'm in a forgiving mood. Now get in here and play with me._

It wasn't even a euphemism, Derek realized, trying to hold in a snort of laughter. Stiles was genuinely feeling playful. He wanted to swim, wanted to _dance_ in the water, and he wanted Derek with him. _It doesn't change –_ he tried, but Stiles cut him off ruthlessly.

 _That's for later. Now is for enjoying the moment. No arguments. Get in here, sourwolf._ He grinned at Derek, crooking a tentacle at him in a beckoning manner.

Derek sighed, resigned. He stripped down to his boxer's quickly, darting a furtive glance at the door and praying Melissa or one of her army of nurses wouldn't come in to check on Stiles anytime soon. Then he jumped, grabbing the edge of the tank and pulling himself up.

When he slipped into the water, Stiles' tentacles were already waiting to wrap around him in a welcoming embrace.

  
*  


Later that day, no longer dripping from his impromptu swim, Derek found Melissa in her office busily typing up patient notes. "So what can you tell me?" he asked without preamble, leaning back against her desk and folding his arms as he stared at her.

Melissa leaned back in her chair, raising a single, perfectly-arched brow at him. "About?" she asked, like she didn't already know. Derek's glower only made her smirk broaden, and she was willing to wait far more patiently than he was.

"About Stiles," he finally growled, rolling his eyes because it was less of a display than throwing his arms up in frustration like he was tempted to.

"Ah!" she said cheerfully, spinning back to her computer and pulling up another file, this one, Derek saw, marked with an asterisk. "Well, overall he's actually in better health than I thought he'd be, all things considered. You were right, they didn't have him for more than a couple weeks, but considering what I figured they'd planned for him –"

"Wait, what?" Derek's brows furrowed. "You know what they wanted him for?"

Melissa sighed, glancing up at him. "I've seen something like it before," she admitted after a moment. "Before I was here. It was one of those things I'd have preferred to forget, you know? Aloshrivnik's – and other beings like them – are rare, but not unheard of. They fetch a hell of a price on the black market as pleasure slaves."

Derek didn't let his face twitch, but the hand he'd let drop to Melissa's desk suddenly clenched so tightly around the edge that he heard the metal grind. Melissa's gaze darted to it, then away again, back to her computer.

"It's easy to do, breaking them, if a dealer knows how. Most telepathic species rely on touch – from their families, friends, everyone they know. There aren't really boundaries in a society like that. Stiles probably hasn't gone a day without touch in his whole life. He depends on it. If you leave someone like him alone for long enough, they become desperate. They'll do anything for it. Or they'll go mad." The haunted look in her eyes told Derek the way it had gone the last time she'd seen it.

He swallowed hard. "So he was…touch-starved. When we found him."

Melissa nodded, expression grim. "He was still okay, mostly, but it was probably starting to get pretty uncomfortable for him." She paused, obviously choosing her next words carefully. "Scott told me that you swam with him, sometimes, on the trip home."

Derek's jaw tightened. "Yes."

"Before that, you may have noticed signs of his need for touch. It would have expressed itself as –"

"Cold," Derek cut in before she could finish. "He said he was cold."

"Yeah." Melissa released a slow breath. "Fact is, Derek, you probably saved that poor kid a lot of pain, doing what you did. You should feel good about that."

Derek snorted. "Yeah, sure. I'll get right on that."

Melissa huffed. "Okay, look, this is probably none of my business, but –"

"You're right," Derek said, moving to step away. "It's not."

"But," Melissa continued with a steely glare that kept him firmly in place, "I can see that brain of yours already getting ready to dish some big-time man angst, and I'm tired of seeing you beat yourself up over stupid shit. So whether or not something happened between you two, understand that Stiles _was_ still in his right mind, he _hadn't_ been cut off long enough to be badly affected, and I _will_ punch you in your balls if you pull the same shit on him you did the last couple days."

Derek flushed, his hands clenching by his side as he fought to keep meeting her gaze. When he felt he could form coherent words again, he asked, "How often did you traumatize Scott as a child?"

Melissa only smiled benignly, satisfied enough to turn back to her work without another word.

Derek left her office feeling thoroughly chastised, metaphorical tail tucked firmly between his legs.

  
*  


After that, Derek made a point of visiting Stiles several times a day, and going into the water with him at least once in the mornings and once in the evenings. He didn't say anything about his talk with Melissa, and Stiles didn't ask about the sudden extra attention. He seemed to enjoy it, though, if the way he wouldn't drag himself more than a foot away from Derek when they were together was any indication.

They didn't touch in any way that could have been deemed inappropriate; even kissing was unnecessary, now that Derek had access to the small breathing apparatus that could supply him with several hours of oxygen.

It was better that way, he told himself, and tried not to notice the glances Stiles sometimes sent his way, silent and wanting.

And even in spite of that, it didn't take long for Derek to get so used to the feel of Stiles' tentacles against his skin, to the point where when they weren't together, he felt bereft, like something integral was missing. He woke more than once in the middle of the night during the next couple weeks, having dreamt of the slippery slide of those long feelers on his body.

Running his hands in a gentle glide over his own skin, trying to sooth himself back to sleep, was a decidedly poor imitation.

It became just one more thing for Derek to try to ignore.

Meanwhile, the other birds Derek's crew had rescued were recovering quickly under Melissa's care. Derek didn't really speak with any of them, but he looked in on them a few times, especially the younger ones. He was glad most of them would be able to make their way to their respective homes soon.

Stiles, who was healthier than any of them, should have been the first to leave, but he made no mention of it, Melissa made no mention of it, the pack made no mention of it, and, well, Derek sure as hell wasn't going to mention it if no one else was.

Three weeks to the day after their arrival on Reijan, though, there was no more getting around it.

"I heard you found my son."

The Aloshrivnik on the vidscreen in front of Derek was certainly older than Stiles, with lines on his face and some gray in his hair and such hopeful desperation in his eyes that Derek didn't at all doubt the relation he claimed to Stiles. Derek hadn't known that Stiles' species could speak outside of their telepathy, but his father was in what looked like a pool of water, his torso dry while his tentacles writhed in the gentle currents around him. Those tentacles were the same color as Stiles', but longer and thicker and Derek swore he saw suckers on the ends of them that Stiles _definitely_ didn't have. It took him a long moment to look away from them. "I, um." Derek cleared his throat. "You must mean Stiles." He remembered abruptly that Melissa had contacted the Aloshrivnik homeworld three days ago. Hated himself for forgetting even for a second. "My pack found him at a facility on Volkale, along with several dozen others beings forced into the slave trade."

The man in front of him groaned, rubbing a hand over his face in a decidedly human gesture of relief and weariness. "I can't tell you how grateful I am," he said. "When he disappeared, we didn't think –" His voice cracked, and he broke off, eyes closing. "When can he come home?"

Derek was careful not to let a single muscle in his face twitch, and he kept his voice even through sheer force of will. "As soon as he's ready, sir, I'll escort him there myself. In the meantime, would you like to speak with him?"

"Yes, very much so. Please." Stiles' father smiled tiredly, already looking better than he had when Derek had first answered the call.

Derek took the vidscreen to Stiles' area without a word. He couldn't muster his usual small smile when Stiles' face lit up at his entrance, just swallowed hard, pressing his palm to the glass and asking Stiles if he could meet him at the surface for something important. Head tilted, Stiles nodded and complied.

Perched on a corner after making his way to the top, Derek opened the vidscreen and held it out to Stiles, who blinked at it in shock. "Oh my god, _Dad?_ "

His physical voice sounded exactly the same as his telepathic voice. That was the only thing Derek allowed himself to take note of as he quietly jumped down and left Stiles and his father to their conversation.

  
*  


In the office, Derek could monitor if the vidscreen was still in use or not, and he didn't return to Stiles' tank until the "open transmission" light had been dark for several minutes.

Stiles was waiting for him, and he reached down to drop the vidscreen into Derek's waiting hands as soon as Derek was close enough, then sank back beneath the surface to press a hand to the glass. With a strange sense of foreboding, Derek pressed his own hand to the other side. _Did you have a nice conversation?_ he asked.

 _Yes,_ Stiles said, but didn't add any details. _I want to talk to you. Away from here. I can sense that there's water on his planet, is it close?_

Derek blinked at the abrupt question. _Close enough, I guess, but how would you…_

 _I can be out of the water, a little,_ Stiles assured him. _As long as it's not for long. How far is it?_

 _I…we could take my ship,_ Derek said slowly. _It's just on the main hangar, and it's a ten minute flight to the bay. But Stiles, I have to clear this with Melissa, make sure the water on this planet won't hurt you._

 _It won't,_ Stiles said, a stubborn set to his chin. _Our bodies can adapt to salt or freshwater as needed, and I could sense it if it was dangerous to me. I want to go now, Derek. I know Melissa's out with Scott, celebrating his birthday. I don't want to wait. Please?_

Derek sighed, already counting all the ways Melissa was going to tear him a new one when she got back. He glared at Stiles, but if Stiles felt any remorse, none of it showed in that beaming smile or those bright eyes. Shaking his head, Derek went to prepare the tank for Stiles' release.

  
*  


They made it to Derek's ship faster than he'd thought possible. Stiles' tentacles rolled him along so he easily kept pace with Derek, grinning over at him when Derek couldn't help keep his eyes away from the shifting, writhing tangle. Reaching out, he took Derek's hand in his, tugging him close enough that the tentacles brushed against him with every step.

Derek let out a harsh breath. "You're going to be the death of me," he muttered, but didn't let go of Stiles' hand.

"But what a way to go, huh?" Stiles grinned.

They managed to get Stiles safely into Derek's small two-man ship without seeing anyone else, and Derek buckled himself in with a sigh of relief, powering the engines and punching coordinates into the computer.

"I like your ship," Stiles said. "It's more…personal, than the big one you use for missions. More you. What's her name?"

Derek let one side of his mouth curl up as he lifted up and away from the hangar. "She's called _Triskele_." He tapped the corner of the console, where a small triskelion symbol had been etched into the silver plating.

"I like it," Stiles said again, and settled back into his seat with a sigh. One tentacle slithered up and onto the console, feeling its way over the buttons without actually pressing any. Derek batted it away with a glower. Instead of subsiding, it simply switched tracks, curling around his leg instead.

Derek decided that was okay. At least it couldn't cause trouble there. He kept a wary eye on the rest of them as he flew, but they seemed content to be wrapped around Stiles' chair instead, supporting him better than the seat itself, designed for a humanoid bipedal being, could.

Stiles looked over in time to see him watching them, and he smirked. "I can behave," he assured, then added, "for a little while."

Derek rolled his eyes. He was careful to keep his leg very still, not drawing any attention to it lest Stiles think that one tentacle was causing problems and tried to remove it.

  
*  


The bay was glittering in the late afternoon sunlight. As oceans went, this was a small one, nothing like the oceans on Earth. But the water was the same rich blue of the Caribbean, and it was pleasantly warmed by Reijan's twin suns. Stiles rolled himself into the water with a grateful sound, eyes closed as his tentacles splashed happily around him.

Derek stripped down to the swim trunks he'd worn beneath his clothes and followed him in with some apprehension. "How is it?" he asked. "Better than the tank?"

" _Much_ ," Stiles exclaimed, ducking under the waves for a heartbeat and emerging with a contented sigh.

Derek smiled, genuinely glad at least that Stiles was enjoying himself. He leaned back, floating comfortably on the water, staring up at the vast, cloudless sky. The weather on Reijan almost never changed, and daylight was eternal; soon, the first sun would slip beneath the horizon as the second rose in its place. And with no moon to give tide to the water, Derek could quite happily stay here forever and never notice the difference.

The feel of a thick tentacle wrapping around his middle, helping to keep him afloat, made his smile widen, and he glanced over at Stiles with a raised eyebrow.

"So, my dad…"

"He was pretty worried," Derek said, remembering the face in the vidscreen, the way his eyes had brightened with such relief when he'd heard Stiles was safe.

Stiles nodded, looking down. "We're all each other has, y'know? I don't have any siblings…large families are common for my kind, but quite frankly, I was a miracle. No one thought my mom would be able to carry Dad's kid."

"How come?" Derek asked curiously, like it was any of his business.

Stiles' eyes flicked to him, and he shrugged a little. "She was, ah. Human, actually."

Derek tried to straighten too quickly, resulting only in sinking beneath the surface and sputtering when the tentacle still wrapped around him brought him immediately back up. Stiles was giggling into his hand, which only made Derek glare harder even though he was still reeling. "So, no one in your family does anything normal, I guess?" he finally said, and then immediately cringed at himself.

Stiles, though, beamed at him. "Nope. To be honest, Mom always had this _look_ , every time she told me that I'd know when I found the right one. I think some part of her always knew…"

Swallowing, Derek tried to ignore the implications. The way the words _the one_ rang in his ears, the way Stiles' heartbeat hadn't even stuttered. Like it just _was_. "Your mom, she…"

"She got sick." Stiles' mouth twisted unhappily. "She died a few years ago. Something to do with her heart. She actually lived a lot longer than her human doctors had expected, being on my planet."

Derek knew what a useless platitude it was to say _I'm sorry_ , so he didn't. Instead he only offered a quiet, "I can see why your dad is eager to have you home."

"Mmm," Stiles murmured in agreement. "Your family is gone too, aren't they?" he asked, voice soft.

"Yeah," Derek said, his whole body going tense. He didn't – couldn't – offer an explanation; some things were just still too painful. "Just me and my sister now. We don't see each other much." Her pack ran a long ways from here, doing the same work Derek's did. It was good that they could cover so many places between them, but Derek missed her like a lost limb sometimes.

The tentacle still curled around his waist tightened, but Stiles also clearly knew that empty words wouldn't help, because he tactfully changed the subject. "Hey Derek, so, tell me about this planet. It seems a lot like how my mom used to describe Earth, but it's a lot…quieter."

"It is," Derek told him, releasing a quiet sigh of gratitude as his body began to relax again. "It could support all the same life that Earth does, but the only life signs we've found so far are vegetation. No animals. Minimal bacteria. The plants, though, they're interesting. Stuff eerily similar to what Earth has, filled with every kind of nutrient a healthy earthling body needs. Melissa thinks that it might've been one of the early terraforming projects from the beginning of the space age, but when we found it, it'd been totally abandoned. And it's not along any trade routes, so we don't get a lot of unwelcome visitors. It was a lucky find for us."

"It's a good place," Stiles agreed. "Could make a nice home for anyone, really." He glanced at Derek quickly, eyes flashing golden in the sunlight. "I mean, y'know. If they were thinking of moving."

Derek's throat worked as he tried to swallow, but the lump that was suddenly lodged there was making it a difficult task. "I…" His voice cracked, and he realized he was close enough to Stiles now that he could reach out and touch, so he did, grabbing him by the arms as much to balance himself as to keep Stiles facing him. "What are you saying?"

Stiles' tentacles curling around his legs, his waist, his ass, made his heart jump, felt familiar and comforting and right like nothing else did anymore. "I'm saying that…I don't want to leave. I don't want to have to miss you. In a perfect world, I want to…help you. If we could find a way. I just. I don't want to leave, Derek."

"You're pack," Derek told him, eyes closing as he pressed his forehead to Stiles'. "You've been pack, you _feel_ like pack, I just didn't know how to –" He cut himself off ruthlessly, then said, "You never have to leave if you don't want to, but your dad, your people –"

"How would you feel about sharing your planet?" Stiles cut him off this time to ask, looking shy when Derek's eyes flew open again and he stared. "I mean, there's more than enough water to go around, I think, right? And my dad thinks…well, home doesn't really feel safe anymore, I guess, not for anyone, since I got…" His lips twisted around the words as he broke off. "Anyway. When we talked, he pretty much knew what was going on right away. I don't have a great poker face." He smiled wryly. "And he talked to one of the elders who was close by, and she agreed that the idea had merit. If your pack, and Melissa, and everyone here was okay with it."

" _Our_ pack," Derek murmured. "Jesus, Stiles, you're serious."

"Sometimes," Stiles said with a wide grin. "Now _definitely_ being one of those times. So whaddya think?"

"I think…" Derek paused, taking a long breath, hardly daring to believe it. "I think we should start making arrangements."

Stiles whooped loudly, lunging at Derek in what ended up being more of a full-body tackle than a hug. And then Derek was kissing him, _burying_ himself in Stiles' scent and taste and touch. And then Stiles and all of his tentacles were wrapping around Derek so thoroughly that they sank beneath the surface of the water entirely.

They didn't come back up for a long time.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Aloshrivnik](https://archiveofourown.org/works/890762) by [djfox31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/djfox31/pseuds/djfox31)




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